


Soft and Sweet (And Turns Them to Hunters)

by odangoatama



Category: Once Upon a Time (TV)
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-10-23
Updated: 2018-10-24
Packaged: 2019-08-06 08:27:17
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 2,082
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16384676
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/odangoatama/pseuds/odangoatama
Summary: series of entries for SpookyOQ on twitter. // outlaw queen.





	1. wildcard

**Author's Note:**

> Up late, because life happened. But here's the first day entry, in which I'll be using my wildcard and giving you a ghost hunters au.

Regina Mills does not believe in ghosts.  
  
And Robin supposes her ( _loud_ ) skepticism has worked out in their favor over the past year, but that doesn’t make it any less exhausting. Especially when she takes every opportunity she can to mock him for his believing.  
  
“I think this is the most scared I’ve ever seen you,” Regina teases.  
  
“A healthy fear,” Robin defends tiredly, toying with the lens of his camera. It’s a conversation they’ve had so many times that his response is almost muscle memory, and he no longer puts up as big a fight as he used to when they first started this ghost hunting charade.  
  
However, glancing up at the house, he can’t help adding, “You know, there’s a reason our whole crew is abandoning us in this house before sundown.” A big reason as a matter of fact, one that he’s trying very hard to keep detached from less he hop back in the car and call tonight’s plans off.  
  
Regina rolls her eyes. “Yeah, and it’s that they’re not obligated to have a sleepover in some old, musty house in a weird town when they can stay at the cozy bed and breakfast instead.” She grabs her overnight bag as if to emphasize her point as she adds, “Unlike us.”  
  
Robin sighs as he reaches for his own backpack. He takes another look at the house they’re standing in front of, and a bit of the nervousness he’s trying so hard to keep at bay seeps through to the forefront of his mind.  
  
“Relax,” he hears Regina say. He turns away from the house to see her… well, still smirking at his discomfort, but her gaze no longer seems so mocking.  
  
She continues, “We’ll explore, we’ll sleep, we’ll have breakfast at that B&B and then get the hell out of here.” Her smirk softens to a smile Robin rarely gets to see, and she assures him in an odd moment of compassion, “Nothing we haven’t done before.”  
  
Warmth fills Robin’s chest despite himself.  
  
He’d really hoped some time over the past year he’s spent working with Regina that he’d get over the initial crush that had bloomed upon their first meeting. She had been a bit of a standout, overdressed in the casual atmosphere of their media company office as Kathryn Nolan gave her a tour of the place. And upon first sight Robin had found himself walking towards them — towards _her_ — without any thought other than to meet her.  
  
He’d felt lighter than air when he found out she was his intended partner for his new web channel; and though that feeling has since mellowed in the wake of her not-so-nice demeanor and lack of shared interests, it still has a habit of sprouting up in full at worst times. As much as he’d like to, Robin just can’t help it —somehow, they just click.  
  
There’s a reason they’ve garnered a significant number of followers (many wondering when their new favorite ghost hunters are finally gonna come out and say they’re dating).  
  
“Let’s go take a look inside,” Regina says, beginning her walk up to the old, weathered porch.  
  
A chill runs down Robin’s spine against his wishes. He stalls, taking in the view of the old house again as he tries to settle his nerves.  
  
It was said to be one of the most haunted houses in the country. The house can’t hold an owner for more than a month before they’re desperately trying to sell it. No one lives in it currently, giving Robin and Regina an opportunity to do what they do best — explore, hunt for any lost souls. And apparently, have a sleepover with them.  
  
It’s not the first time they’ve slept over in a haunted space (and Robin’s adamant that the few bits of evidence he got from said places speak volumes), but something about this house gives Robin an odd discomfort he’s never felt before during the past year of ghost hunting. And he knows better than to write it off.  
  
This is nuts. This is insane. This is —  
  
“This is a _joke_ ,” he hears Regina yell from inside.  
  
His anxiety gives way to exasperation for a moment, and Robin rolls his eyes as he shifts his backpack over his shoulder and heads up to the door. Letting himself in, he closes the door and makes his way to find his friends. And doesn’t hear the lock turn behind him.


	2. trapped

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> (Day 2 - trapped.)
> 
> Detective Locksley has an unsolved case involving one Regina Mills. However, the pieces don't add up in any logical way, and Robin finds himself having to consider the unthinkable. Is there such thing as a kiss of death?

Robin’s first thought upon entering Regina Mills’ apartment is that it doesn’t look like the home of a murderous monster. And he’s immediately annoyed with himself over it.  
  
Damn David for getting into his head.  
  
“Glass of wine?” the woman offers, slipping out of her heels. The action dwarfs her, adding a touch of innocence to her demeanor that contrasts with the uneasiness her presence had initially given off when he met her at the bar. But Robin doesn’t let that observation affect him.  
  
“Please,” he answers, though he has no intention of drinking anything she gives him. He takes a seat on her couch as she heads to the kitchen. He’s still got a good view of her from his spot in the living room, and he takes full advantage to keep an eye on what she’s up to.  
  
It’s the second drink she’s offered him tonight, and he wonders idly if she’d noticed he’d failed to drink the first one back at the bar. He could’ve, he supposes — he saw the bartender make it, the woman had no opportunity to spike it. But he won’t risk investigating her without having all his wits about him.  
  
If his suspicions are correct — and they usually are — this woman is a force to be reckoned with. The bodies of her last few dates would probably attest to that, if they could.  
  
They’d had three unsolved cases within the last five months, four now with the addition of Mallory Dragomir. Each body was found undisturbed in its respective home, and none of them sported any signs of foul play save for the disturbing black veins sprouting around each of their discolored sets of lips. And Robin was left with the task of trying to figure out how four young, relatively healthy people could all have suffered sudden organ failure overnight.  
  
The four victims had nothing in common, save for one thing — they’d all been reported to have gone on a date with one Regina Mills.  
  
It was a huge connection, Robin believed, but without knowing how these people died, having a suspect only got him so far in solving the case. He and the coroner had gone over everything — possible diseases, deadly viruses — and they had come up with nothing. The coroner had begun to suspect poison, and Robin agreed, despite the autopsies revealing no traces of any such substance.  
  
His partner David had other ideas.  
  
He’d been unwilling to reveal them initially, biting his tongue when the first two cases had arrived and insisting he was just as clueless as Robin was. But when the third case of Graham Humbert had found its home on their desks, he’d reluctantly spilled his suspicions after hours spent pouring over each case to no avail. And Robin had immediately understood why he’d been so unwilling to share.  
  
“It’s superstition…,” David had started, and Robin had immediately raised an eyebrow. David went on regardless, spouting myths from his backwoods small town of a monster, disguised with a flawless human face that was impossible to resist. It would seduce the unsuspecting and all would be lost once it sought the opportunity to press its lips to its victim’s. A kiss of death.  
  
Robin had mocked David relentlessly for it, especially when receiving the fourth case only seemed to strengthen David’s suspicions.  
  
But now, watching the way this woman rounds the corner of the couch and grins down at him, Robin doesn’t find the idea so ridiculous anymore.  
  
“You seem tense,” Regina comments, placing her own glass of wine on the coffee table. She sits down next to him, a tad too close to be appropriate, letting her hand slide over her exposed knee. Robin’s eyes catch the movement, following it down to her toned calves, and when he catches himself and forces his gaze back hers, her eyes are full of that dark amusement again.  
  
“Dazzled, more like,” he lies — except the more time he spends in her presence, the less it feels like a lie. The initial unease, the inexplicable air about her that had spurred his fight or flight instincts when he first saw her at the bar is still there. But as she lets out a light laugh at his reply, reaching her hand over to rest on his bicep, he feels his discomfort being drowned out by _other_ feelings.  
  
“You’re pretty dazzling yourself,” she replies, and her eyes flash with a hunger that stirs his instinct to flee. But her fingers are now tracing aimlessly over his arm, sending pleasant tingles over him, and the low rasp of her voice has him feeling warm. He shifts awkwardly on the couch, unsure if he means to put distance between them or move closer.  
  
Fingers still running lightly over his bicep, she exhales, settling further into the couch — and closer to him. “We both know you have reasons other my charms to have come here, Detective,” she says lazily. Robin’s body tenses noticeably at the title, and the corner of her mouth twitches upward.  
  
_How did she know that…?_  
  
“You gave a statement, Detective Locksley,” she answers his silent question. And he did give a statement, the day after Mallory Dragomir’s death was officially being looked into as a homicide. He also did the same for Graham Humbert. He considers asking her which statement she’s referring to.  
  
Instead, he treads lightly. “So you understand how I might have a few questions…”  
  
Regina tilts her head. “I suppose,” she answers slowly. “But I’m not sure how I could be of much help.” Her hand squeezes lightly around his arm, and he tries to ignore it.  
  
“Well, you were the last person to be seen with—” each of the victims, he almost says, but he catches himself “—Miss Dragomir. Any information you may have could prove quite useful.”  
  
“I wish I had more to give you Detective, but I don’t. Our date ended quite chastely, right at her doorstep,” she tells him lightly, her attention focused on her hand as it wanders up his shoulder.  
  
A little voice tells him that he should tell her to stop, that the contact was inappropriate ( _distracting_ ), but her hand is warm, sending light tingles over him as she lets her fingers drag across his shoulder, and he’s suddenly loathe to lose the pleasant sensation.  
  
She continues, “I kissed her goodnight, and I never heard from her again.” Sadness coats her tone, but there’s a hint of something underneath, something insincere. Robin latches on to the word _kiss_ , and thinks of David’s story again.  
  
Regina drags her gaze from her roaming hand to meet his, and Robin feels intoxicated. So much for keeping his wits about him, he thinks idly as she murmurs, “Such a shame, I really liked her.”  
  
“And the others?” Robin asks distractedly.  
  
She arches a brow, and Robin realizes his mistake. Shit.  
  
“Others?”  
  
“You also went out with Graham Humbert…,” he relents, too much of his attention still focused on her touch, which has wandered lightly to his neck. “… And Daniel Colter…”  
  
Regina smirks. “Thorough research.”  
  
“Sort of my job,” Robin quips. He fights a shiver as her fingers dance over his collarbone.  
  
“The others…,” she drawls, “were also very nice.”  
  
“And you kissed them each goodnight?”  
  
Her grin widens. “Yes.”  
  
Somewhere, in the last part of his brain that’s still thinking logically, Robin feels a sense of dread. He should get up, get as far away from her touch, her presence, as possible. But he’s unable to make himself move as her hand gently caresses his jaw. He feels trapped.  
  
“Anything else you wanted to know, Detective?” she murmurs, eyes moving to stare at his lips. She moves her hand behind his head to bring him closer, and he lets her.  
  
His gaze locks on her soft, red lips in both dread and an unwelcome sense of anticipation. He manages a slight shake of his head in response to her question, and she smiles.  
  
She leans in and gently presses her lips to his.


End file.
